Truths of the Father
by Thn0715
Summary: At 18 years old, Jack Hotchner finally finds the courage to ask his father about the day his mother died. *WINNER: BEST CHARACTERIZATION OF AARON HOTCHNER - 2015 PROFILER'S CHOICE AWARDS*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I watched "100" again for the first time in a while, and as I was watching my muse plopped down on the couch beside me, fresh from his way-too-long vacation, and tapped me right in the plot bunny. And thus, this was born. This takes place 14-15 years after the events of "100".  
**

**Mentions specific moments from 4x18 "Onmivore", 5x1 "Nameless, Faceless", 5x3 "Reckoner", 5x8 "Outfoxed", and 5x9 "100".**

* * *

**Truths of the Father**

And exhausted eighteen year old Jack Hotchner flopped down onto his bed and stared at his ceiling fan spinning in time with the thoughts and images of the day floating through his mind...

The auditorium was filled to capacity with the families and friends of the Potomac High School class of 2024. His friends Michael and Sarah gave the Valedictorian's and Salutatorian's speech. The band played "Pomp and Circumstance" as the 372 graduates walked across the stage, shaking hands with the school principal and superintendent and receiving their diplomas. Most were in a navy blue cover - one of the school's official colors. Those of the National Honor Society members were covered in gold. The families in attendance cheered and took pictures and waved as their graduates' names were called.

In the fifth row sat his very proud father, his crying aunt, his grandparents, and his pseudo-family of wacky aunts and uncles and cousins. All of the important people in his life. The people who helped raise him, taught him to play soccer, helped him with his math homework and countless science projects, taught him everything he knew (and some things he shouldn't know) about computers, gave him advice on girls.

He chuckled at the memory of Garcia teaching him how to hack as and eighth grader, and of Reid helping him set up a volcanic eruption of epic proportions for the sixth grade science fair. He could never thank Uncle Dave and JJ enough for the tips they gave he and Henry on getting around some pesky defenders on the soccer pitch during the high school soccer state championship game just weeks ago. Henry was the only freshman on the team and it was the only year they'd gotten to play together. They became champions together. And Derek provided the perfect "guys night" of football and hot wings shortly after his first broken heart. Emily, Alex, and Kate had all shown him about the strength and bravery of women. Emily also gave him an appreciation for snarkiness and sarcasm, much to his father's chagrin.

And his Dad... Good Lord, how much had his father done for him throughout his life. He couldn't possibly count high enough the number of things his father taught him, how much he'd helped him. The amount of love and support he'd always given, regardless of circumstance. The amount of love and admiration he felt for his dad was astronomical. They were closer than any father and son he knew. His dad was his best friend, his mentor. His hero.

He looked around his room. His newly acquired gold covered high school diploma sat in its new home atop his bookcase, between his soccer state championship plaque and a picture of he and his dad taken just hours ago. He was in his blue cap and gown and his father was in his favorite navy blue suit. They now stood eye to eye with each other and aside from the hair color and eye color, he was the spitting image of his dad. Garcia had printed the picture for them during the party she'd thrown immediately following the graduation ceremony. The acceptance letter from Georgetown University sat on his desk next to his computer. He would begin his quest for his degree this coming fall - a double major in Pre-Law and Criminal Justice. He'd cried when he received that acceptance letter. So had his dad.

_"Your mom would be so proud of you."_

His dad had said that a lot lately. He reached over to his nightstand and picked up the picture that had sat there for the last 14 years. The picture of he and his mom. He was three years old in the picture. And his mom was beautiful. She looked so happy. Clearly they had both been laughing when the picture was taken. He gently touched his fingers to his mom's face as tears welled his eyes. God, he missed her. He didn't have very many memories of her, but the ones he did have he held onto with everything he had. The birthday parties, the tickle fights, playing soccer in the backyard, and the bedtime stories. And the hugs. She gave the best hugs.

He still remembered vividly the last time he saw her. He was four. And there was a bad man in the house. He remembered hearing his dad on the phone. He remembered his mom crying. He remembered a too-tight hug, then running off to "work the case". And he remembered the loud bangs. To this day, loud unexpected noises still made him jumpy.

Many times over the years he'd wanted to ask his dad about the bad man who'd taken his mother from him. He wanted to know the whole story. He needed to know. But every time he thought about broaching the subject he chickened out. He was afraid of what he'd learn. And he knew how much telling the story would hurt his dad. He knew it would be one of the toughest conversations they'd ever have, if not the toughest. He knew it would be hard. For both of them. But the older he got, the more he needed to know what really happened to his mom. He had so many questions and he needed those answers.

He looked at the clock on his nightstand. 2:36am. His dad would be long asleep by now.

Tomorrow. He'd have to ask tomorrow. Before he lost his nerve. Again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 2**

Aaron was already up and showered and having his first cup of coffee when he heard his son moving around upstairs. His high school graduate. His chest swelled with pride. Jack graduated with honors in the top ten of his class. In a few months he'd be starting college with big plans for a bright future. Though Georgetown was not far away at all, Jack and two friends had opted to pool their money and get an apartment near campus. He'd be moving out in a few short months. He wasn't looking forward to that, but he wanted his son to have the college experience. And he'd still be close if he needed him.

He thought back to the little boy who'd grown up so much faster than he'd thought possible. When did his four-year-old little bundle of energy and excitement become the 6-foot tall young man with the fiery wit and the heart of gold who'd walked across that stage last night? He thought back through the years, back to the days of blanket forts in their small apartment living room. Back to when he'd been tapped to coach his son's soccer team though he didn't know anything at all about soccer. He could only thank Dave for surviving that one. He remembered the days when all of life's problems could be solved by action figures and Lego sets and ice cream. Then it was middle school and the awkward stages of puberty. Now _that_ was a fun time... NOT!

He remembered how they both wanted to hide under the couch when they finally had the big father-son talk. He cringed remembering the 14 shades of red they both turned when he'd handed his 15-year-old son that special little foil packet to keep in his wallet... just in case. He shook his head at how nervous Jack would get when he wanted to ask a girl to homecoming dances or prom or the athletic banquet. And how it took the poor guy forever to learn how to tie a necktie. And he smiled at the gentleman his young man was with the ladies. Always respectful.

_Your mom would be so proud of you._

He'd thought and said that so many times lately. He'd always made a point to tell Jack how proud his mom would be, but it seemed he was saying it every other day recently. Last night Haley was at the forefront of his mind as he watched their honor student receive his high school diploma. He couldn't help but shed a few tears along with her sister, Jessica, thinking of how she should have been there. So many events throughout Jack's young life, she should have been there.

For roughly the four billionth time since November 25, 2009, he wanted to kill George Foyet all over again.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when he heard the shower turn off. He poured himself a second cup of coffee, cooked scrambled eggs and toasted some English muffins, and thought about how all of a sudden he had a grown man living under his roof. Breakfast was ready by the time Jack came downstairs.

"Morning. Want some coffee?"

He stretched and rubbed his eyes. "As long as there's a quart of sugar in it, yes."

Aaron shook his head. "Did we wear you out yesterday? You're looking a little rough this morning."

"Nah. Just took me forever to fall asleep last night." He took the cup from his dad and took a sip. "Mmmmm... Deliciousness in a coffee mug."

Aaron sat a plate down in front of his son. "Here's hoping this is deliciousness on a plate."

Jack laughed. "Breakfast was always one of your best. And Mac &amp; Cheese, of course."

"Of course. It was all you would eat until you were about 10 years old."

Jack chuckled, then commenced to scarfing down his breakfast. As he finished off his coffee he caught his dad watching him. "What?"

"I keep looking across the table expecting to see my little boy. And there's a grown man sitting in his place." He shook his head. "You grew up way too fast on me."

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure I was ready for that."

Jack glanced down at the table. "Me either."

Aaron waited for his son to look back up at him. His brow furrowed as Jack kept his head down. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," he finally looked up and gave his father a half grin. "Just been thinking about stuff."

"Is that why you couldn't sleep last night?"

"A little."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

There it was. The opening he'd been waiting for. But now that the door was open his mouth had gone dry. He still wanted to know the truth. But making himself say the words just wasn't happening. He swallowed hard but couldn't make himself open his mouth.

Aaron got up from his chair and sat in the one next to his son. He brushed his fingers through Jack's hair as he had since he was a kid and let his hand rest on the back of his neck. "Son, look at me."

When he finally lifted his head, his father could see the unshed tears in his eyes. "You can talk to me about anything. You know that. Just because you're older doesn't change that."

"I know," he nodded. "It's just... I've been thinking about Mom a lot lately."

Aaron brushed away the tear that escaped his son's eye and kept his other hand on his back. "So have I. I know I keep telling you, but she would be so proud of you. You were the joy of her life."

"Dad..." He choked on his words and had to swallow hard before he could continue. And despite being afraid and wary of the answers that awaited him, he looked his father in the eye. "I want to know. I want to know what really happened."

Jack watched the color drain from his dad's face as he closed his eyes slowly and hung his head. He took a moment to regain his composure before looking back at his son.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Don't be," he said, his voice filled with compassion. "It's okay. I knew you'd want to know one day." He took a deep breath. "I've been waiting for you to ask me about that day for the last fourteen years. That doesn't make it any less hard." Jack could hear the crack in his dad's voice. "I said a long time ago, the only way I would ever tell that story again was if you asked me to. But you need to be sure, Jack. This is a long and ugly story. Are you absolutely sure you want to hear this?"

Jack swallowed hard, but he met his father's eyes and nodded. "I'm scared," he admitted. "But I want to know. I need to know."

"Okay," he nodded and squeezed his son's shoulder. "Okay." He stood up slowly. "Come on. Let's go for a ride."

Jack stood. As he started for the door, Aaron put his hand on his arm to stop him. Then pulled him into the tightest embrace he could muster. "I love you, son. Always. Don't ever forget that, okay?" Jack held onto him just as tight. "I love you too, Dad."

Aaron finally let go and moved to his desk to get his keys. He pulled something from the top drawer and held it tightly for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. And he and his son went out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 3**

Aaron parked beside the curb and turned off the car. He sat looking out across the cemetery trying to gather his thoughts, steeling himself to relive the most painful few years of his life. Fourteen years to prepare for this conversation wasn't long enough. But his son had waited long enough for the truth. And he'd made a promise. He didn't break promises to his little boy no matter how big that little boy got.

He and Jack got out of the car and walked across the hallowed grounds, past loved ones who had gone before. Their feet knew the way, carrying them straight to the little stone bench under the big tree that shaded the resting place of the woman who meant more to them than any other. Jack sat on the bench as Aaron knelt beside her grave marker and brushed away a few stray leaves. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wedding band he'd taken from his desk drawer. He held it gently in the palm of his hand, rubbing it with his thumb as if it were sacred.

"I'm going to need you to hold my hand through this, sweetheart," he whispered as he slipped his wedding band back onto his finger. He put his fingertips to his lips, then laid them over her name. Then he closed his eyes and took a few slow steadying breaths.

_Now or never._

He joined his son on the bench and clasped his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I should have known we were coming here," Jack smiled.

Aaron nodded. "This is the only place I'm going to be strong enough to tell this story."

"Dad... If you... I understand if you don't want to..."

"Jack," he began, placing his hand over his son's, "your mom loved you more than anything on this planet. And she was ripped away from you in a way that no parent should ever be taken from their child. You were so young, there was no way I could possibly explain what was happening other than to say that a bad man hurt Mommy. I knew one day you would ask. And regardless of how hard it may be for me to talk about, you deserve to know what really happened."

"I've almost asked a few times, but I keep chickening out," he confessed shyly.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess... maybe I just wasn't ready yet. And I didn't want to upset you."

Aaron put his arm around Jack's shoulders in a one armed hug. "This is not going to be an easy conversation by any stretch, but we're going to do this together. If you have any questions, you ask. Don't worry about upsetting me. You need answers. Hopefully I'll be able to give them to you. Okay?"

"Okay."

Aaron and Jack both took a deep breath.

"You were only four when she died. How much do you remember?"

"Not much. It's like little fragments of memories now. I remember the noise."

"The gun."

"Yeah," he shuddered slightly. "It was really loud, then really quiet. I knew that wasn't good."

"Do you remember going into Protective Custody?"

"I remember being gone for a long time. I didn't know that's what it was."

"Do you remember coming to see me at the hospital before you and your mom left?"

Jack furrowed his brow trying to remember, but was coming up empty. He shook his head.

"You and your mom had to go into Protective Custody because I was attacked by a man named George Foyet."

"I remember his name," Jack said with a harsh tone to his voice. "I won't ever forget his name. But I never understood... why did he target our family? Why us?"

Aaron took a deep shuddering breath.

"Because I pissed him off..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 4**

"Because I pissed him off... And he was hell bent on making me pay for it."

Jack watched as his father stared off into the distance, eyes moving around as if he were watching this tragedy play out once again right before them on these hallowed grounds. He watched his father absently fiddling with the wedding ring he hadn't worn in so long that Jack had no memory of it. Every so often Aaron would swallow hard and brush his thumb across the old faded scar that lived on his forearm, midway between the elbow and wrist. He rubbed his hands over his face before finally speaking.

"Back in 1998 the Bureau got a call seeking help from Boston PD. I'd been with the BAU for a few months and Gideon thought it was time I took the lead on a case."

"Who's Gideon? I don't remember him."

"Jason Gideon. He was the Unit Chief back then. He left the unit when you were about a year old. He and Uncle Dave used to run the unit together. They helped build that unit from the ground up. They taught me everything I know about being a Profiler." He smiled remembering those few months he got to spend with both Dave and Jason in the BAU. They were a young, eager learner's dream team. And he'd soaked up everything they'd had to offer like a sponge.

"By '98 Dave had retired the first time and was writing novels. So Gideon was running things on his own. He thought I was ready. My first case as lead profiler, so of course I was excited. And nervous. This was my chance to prove I belonged with this unit. I felt like I was up to the challenge. So we went to Boston and worked with a detective named Tom Shaunessey. We got all the information Boston PD had on the case. And it was an ugly one.

"He was called The Boston Reaper. And he lived up to the name and then some. He killed 21 people over four years. And his kills were brutal. He would stab his victims mercilessly and draw the Eye of Providence at the scene in their blood."

"His signature," Jack stated.

"That's right," Aaron nodded. "He had several. He would also taunt the Boston PD. He would call 911 and gloat about his victims and of course by the time medics got to the scene his victims were dead. We'd been there for a week or so and were getting nowhere with finding this guy. Everything we use to try to build a profile - geography, victim type, time between kills, signatures - they were all over the map. This guy had no preference. If you were a human being, you were a target. Nobody was safe and everyone knew it. You could feel the fear emanating from people as they walked down the street. We were supposed to be there to help but we weren't getting anywhere. And people were still dying. We were all getting frustrated, feeling like we were running in circles. But while we were there, he made a mistake."

"This doesn't sound like a guy that makes mistakes," Jack looked on with surprise. "What happened?"

"One of his 911 calls saved a victim. When medics got to the scene the female was already dead. The male had lost a lot of blood and was barely breathing, but he was alive. They managed to stabilize him at the hospital and after a few days we were able to talk to him. It was the break we'd been waiting for. We had an eyewitness who could tell us everything about the attack, what kind of ruse he used to get close to them, things he said, how he acted. He was able to give us a description of his attacker. We put him with a sketch artist, and once we had his picture we put it everywhere. Newspapers, local and national TV, flyers. All the attention didn't phase him at all. The survivor was his ninth victim. He killed 12 more after that.

"And then everything just... stopped."

Jack looked at his father, confusion written across his brow. "What do you mean 'everything stopped'?"

"Just that. Everything stopped. He stopped killing. Stopped taunting the police. There were no more 911 calls. He was gone. We thought maybe we'd scared him into going underground, that maybe he'd surface with new tactics and we'd catch him that way. Or maybe he'd surface in another city. We didn't have tech analysts like Garcia then. We had to do all the digging on our own, but we were all coming up empty. We waited six weeks. Nothing ever turned up. We never had enough for a true profile. Every possible lead we had went cold. Finally we had to give up the chase. Boston PD shut down the investigation and sent us away. We filed it as a cold case and came home. And the Boston Reaper faded into obscurity. Or so we thought."

Jack tried to process what his father was telling him, but he didn't see the connection to this case and his mother. There had to be more to it. Something his dad wasn't telling him.

"Dad, what does this have to do with Mom? I don't understand."

"You will," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because one night in 2009, out of the blue, I got a phone call..."


	5. Chapter 5

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 5**

"Because one night in 2009, out of the blue, I got a phone call. And it set in motion the events that would change everything for all of us forever."

Aaron hung his head, shaking it slightly. He still couldn't believe how everything had unraveled. He could still see Shaunessy's face, still hear the pleading in his voice as he tried to justify his decision to him. As he begged him to tell the victims' families he was sorry. Shaunessy knew Hell was about to come forth in the wake of his death. A Hell they'd all fought before and would have to fight again.

"Dad?" Jack's concerned voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

Aaron smiled. "I don't know why, but you always catch me off guard when you ask me that. I'm supposed to be making sure you're okay."

Jack smiled back at him. "We take care of each other. Just like always. It's what we do."

"Yes, it is." He took a deep breath, something he'd done a lot today. "Jack, before we go any further I want you to remember something. When this is over, you're going to have a lot to process. And your emotions are going to be all over the place. I want you to know that whatever you may feel, it's okay. If you need to talk to me about anything, if you need to cry, yell, scream, get angry, it's okay. Just know that I love you. I'm always going to love you. Nothing will ever change that. I need you to remember that. Okay?"

Now it was Jack's turn to swallow hard. He knew they were about to get to the heart of the matter. Why his mother was taken from him. And what had his dad so wound up that he looked almost afraid to keep going. But they'd made a deal with each other, no matter how much it hurt, they were going to get through this conversation. He nodded, and his father nodded back at him, and continued.

"In 2009 I got a phone call from Tom Shaunessy's wife. He'd been sick for a while and was dying, and had asked to see me. I hadn't seen or spoken to him since 1998, so I had no idea why he would ask for me, but I went anyway. He wanted to talk about the Reaper case. He said I needed to know why he'd shut down the investigation. Then he told me the one thing I never thought I'd hear from a fellow officer."

He shook his head and let out an exacerbated sigh. "He'd made a deal with The Reaper."

"What?!" Jack looked stunned.

"What he called 'a deal with the devil'. In The Reaper's exact words..._"If you stop hunting me, I'll stop hunting them."_ That was the deal. Stop trying to catch him and he'd stop killing. Shaunessy thought he was doing the right thing. The deal worked for a while. The killings stopped. He saved anyone else from falling victim to him. Or so he thought. With his impending death, he feared The Reaper would return. He said he could feel him watching, waiting for his chance to kill again. His death would mean their mutual agreement was over. He wanted me to know in case The Reaper started killing again. I would know it wasn't a copycat."

"It happened, didn't it?" Jack asked sadly. "The Reaper came back."

Aaron nodded. "Less than 12 hours after I got the call about Tom Shaunessy's death. He killed a couple after they'd been stranded on the road with two flat tires. He played the part of a concerned motorist stopping to help. Left all his signatures at the scene. So we packed up and went back to Boston.

"Sgt. Mike O'Mara was on the original case. He was convinced it was a copycat until I showed up with Tom Shaunessy's letter. He couldn't believe it."

"I bet he was pissed," Jack shook his head, his disappointment pertinent. As the son of a law enforcement officer, he felt the sting nearly as much as those who carried a shield or badge. "I still can't believe a cop did that. He just... let him go. How could he do that?"

"Believe me, everyone was upset by that. I can understand where he was coming from to a point. You want to do what you can to protect your people. He felt like his back was against the wall and he didn't have any other options. He thought he was doing the right thing for the city. But he went about it all wrong. Like I told him the night before he died, we don't let them get away with it. The only way to truly protect our people is to catch them. He may have saved a few lives ten years ago, but now more people were dying. And so we set out to do what we couldn't ten years ago. He wasn't going to get away with it again. Though he was going to try. Viciously. He killed another couple the same night we arrived. This time posing as a cop."

"Damn." Jack ran his hand through his hair.

"Yeah. I told Dave that after we were pulled off the original case I kept going back to it over the years. Something about it kept eating at me. As I got more and more experience in the job I'd go back to it and add to the profile, trying to find the missing links. So we got together and added our new info to what I had worked on over the years and we built a stronger profile. In the meantime, Garcia was trying to find the survivor from ten years ago. He was so far off the grid even Garcia couldn't find him."

"That takes some serious talent. And commitment." Jack sounded surprised. "And skills. Mad skills. Garcia can find anything on anyone."

"I know. She was not happy about it."

"I believe it."

"But we had another way to find him. There was a local reporter who'd written a book on The Reaper. His name was Roy Coulson. He'd interviewed the survivor quite a bit for his book. If anyone would know how to find him, he would. So we got in contact with him and he told us where to look.

"Needless to say, the survivor was surprised to see us. He knew the new murders weren't a copycat. But he was taking steps to protect himself, and had been for the last ten years. He used aliases, lived in multiple locations, took the bus instead of driving. He gave us his names and addresses so we could contact him. After that, we called it a night.

"That night I got another phone call."

"Oh, good grief," Jack shook his head. "I'm starting to see why you don't like phone calls. Seems like there's always something bad on the other end."

Aaron sighed. "This was the second worst phone call of my life."

"What happened?"

"The Reaper was on the other end."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "He called you?! What did he say?"

Aaron sighed deeply. "_'If you stop hunting me, I'll stop hunting them.'_"

"Oh God. He offered you the same deal. I know you didn't take it." When Aaron didn't respond, Jack's breathing quickened and he momentarily panicked, thinking the worst. "Dad, please tell me you didn't take it," he begged.

"I didn't take it."

"Thank God," Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

"And just minutes after I hung up the phone seven more people died."

Aaron closed his eyes tight and hung his head, the vision of those seven victims still so fresh in his mind as if he were right back on that bus staring down at them. The guilt he thought he'd buried so long ago crept its way back through his veins, sending a chill down his spine. His breathing hitched as he felt a gentle hand on his back.

"Dad, it wasn't your fault," Jack spoke softly.

"I know," he said, his voice cracking. "It took Dave some time to convince me of that. But in that moment, I understood exactly why Shaunessey made the decision he did. He took the deal and The Reaper stopped killing for ten years. I turned down The Reaper's deal and within minutes seven innocent people lost their lives. That's a very hard pill to swallow. Even all these years later." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Those seven deaths were a message. He was never going to stop. And every new death would be on us. That wasn't the only message he left that night."

"What do you mean?"

"He left a series of numbers written in blood on the windows of the bus. It took us a bit to figure it out, but they turned out to be the addresses we'd gotten from the surviving victim. The Reaper had been watching him. He knew exactly where to look for him at all times. Now he was going after him. So we split up and hit all three addresses at once hoping we could finally stop this nightmare. Reid came with me, Emily went with Dave, and Morgan went with Sgt. O'Mara. Reid and I didn't find anything. Neither did Dave and Emily. We knew something was wrong when we couldn't reach Morgan. Boston PD and EMT's were already at the house when we got there. I swear, my heart stopped when I saw the gurney. It was Sgt. O'Mara. The Reaper had been laying in wait for whoever was going to come for him. And he knew we would. When Morgan and O'Mara split up he took the opportunity to attack. He took out O'Mara in the back yard. Slit his throat from ear to ear. Then attacked Morgan from inside the house. Put him through the front window and knocked him out cold. Stole his credentials and took off. Morgan was okay. EMT's were working on him, pulling glass out of his shoulder when we got there, but the Reaper was nowhere to be found. What we did find was a truckload of blood on the kitchen floor."

"He got the survivor," Jack sounded sad.

"There were drag marks through the blood, but we didn't find a body at the scene. We knew the blood wasn't O'Mara's. So we went back to the station to try to figure this out. Why was the survivor so important? He let him live for ten years, why go after him now? Why would he kill him but take the body? It just didn't make any sense to us."

"Dad, can I ask you something?" Jack spoke up.

"Sure."

"Why haven't you said his name?"

"The survivor's or the Reaper's?"

He thought for a second. "Both, I guess."

"Because there's a much deeper connection between them than criminal and victim..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 6**

"Because there's a much deeper connection between them than criminal and victim. The more we dug, the more the pieces fell into place. I'd spent so much time over the years pouring over this case that I could see every little detail untangle right before my eyes. The connection between the survivor and the Reaper... they were one in the same."

"Wait, wait," Jack shook his head. "Wait a second. You're telling me that the survivor WAS the Reaper?!" His dad nodded. "How is that possible? What about his stab wounds from the original case? He was attacked by someone, right? How can they be the same person?"

"Back in 98, he made the 911 call after he'd killed his girlfriend, then went back to the scene and stabbed himself multiple times knowing medics were on the way and could save him."

A look of disbelief etched itself all over Jack's face as he visibly shuddered. "That is sick."

Aaron nodded in agreement. "That is the mind of a killer. You may have heard us talk over the years about how killers like to relive their crimes. They revisit the crime scenes, contact the media, get involved with the investigation in some way. By becoming the victim, it made him the centerpiece of our investigation. Every ounce of information we had came straight from the killer himself. He played us all and we had no idea. Even ten years later we were still getting all our intel from him. He had the Boston PD and the FBI in the palm of his hand. Again."

He looked at Jack, a sadness washing over him. "Do you know his name yet?"

Jack's took a shaky breath as his eyes teared. "It was him, wasn't it?" He swallowed hard and looked at his father. "George Foyet."

Aaron nodded. "It was George Foyet."

Jack shook his head and pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes to stem the tears he knew were fighting to break free. It was jarring for him to hear just how long Foyet had been toying with their lives, the extent of the damage the man had caused. And it was hard for him to take a deep breath around the growing lump in his throat. Aaron ran his hand through Jack's hair and squeezed his shoulder, a silent show of support. Jack leaned into his father's touch as he looked up to the sky and took a deep shaky breath before finally looking back at him. Aaron waited until he was sure Jack was ready before he continued.

"When we finally put the pieces together that George Foyet was The Reaper, I couldn't believe it. I wanted to throw up. I was so mad at myself. I spent pieces of the previous ten years going over and over that case and it never once crossed my mind that Foyet could have been anything other than a victim. Which is exactly what he wanted us to believe. But I couldn't dwell on it, because once I realized it I knew Roy Coulson was in grave danger and we had to find him immediately."

"The reporter? Why?"

"We'd seen him at the bus crime scene. He told us Foyet wanted to see him. We figured he was upset because Coulson gave us the information on where to find him. Turns out he was mad because he'd sent Coulson a copy of the agreement between he and Shaunessy, and instead of publishing it, he brought it to us. Foyet wanted it published so that the world could see how he'd beaten the police, and to counter the claims in Coulson's book that the Reaper had either died or been arrested for some other crime. He wanted Coulson to rewrite the story. Thankfully Coulson had his cell phone on so Garcia was able to track him and we found them. We took Foyet into custody that night, handed him over to Boston PD and came home.

"It felt good to finally close that case, for a few hours anyway. We were all still at the BAU, hadn't even gone home for the night when JJ came into my office and told us that he'd escaped custody."

"Oh, holy hell," Jack dropped his face into his hands.

"Turns out he had the schematics for every prison in the state of Massachusetts. No matter where we had sent him, he knew multiple ways out and had a plan for every scenario. The statewide manhunt became a nationwide manhunt but they never found him. If there was one thing Foyet had in spades, it was patience. He'd waited ten years the first time around. Who knew how long he'd stay hidden this time. But we didn't have to wait long. It was six months later when he surfaced again."

"Where?"

"In my apartment..."


	7. Chapter 7

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 7**

Jack saw a physical change in his father and knew they were getting into painful territory. His breathing changed. His posture stiffened. His jaw clenched. His eyes were distant, pained. This time it was Jack's turn to offer that silent support. He put his hand on his dad's arm, and his dad's hand covered his own.

"Emily asked me in the hospital if I remembered what happened. I told her I couldn't remember anything after the first time he stabbed me. I lied. She knew I was lying, but she didn't push it. I remembered everything, every little detail until I passed out. I can still remember it like it happened yesterday. Sometimes I can still feel it.

"We had just gotten back from a hellacious case in Canada. It was one of those cases where, even though we saved a victim, it still felt like everyone lost. One of the worst cases of our careers. Nobody said a word on the flight home. Everybody came into the office, finished the paperwork, and left silently. Everyone looked like their spirits had been crushed. I was no exception. All I wanted to do was go home, have a drink and try to sleep even though I knew I'd be haunted all night. I made it as far as the drink when every hair on the back of my neck stood up and all my internal alarms went off. It froze me for a second. Then I turned around and there he was. He had on his mask and his hoodie, had his gun pointed at my head. I knew I was in trouble. I had already taken my gun off and it was out of reach. I did the only thing I could do to affect him... refused to show him fear. Even when he fired a shot intentionally wide that buzzed by my ear."

"God, Dad." Jack shook his head.

"To this day I still don't know how he got in. Anyway, he kept his head like always. One thing about Foyet, the man could keep his composure like no Unsub I've ever seen. Even when he was angry, it was a well controlled anger. It was hard to break through that. When he took his mask off I tried to attack him. Tried to catch him off guard. But it didn't work. I only got one swing in before he hit me with his gun and I hit the floor. When I tried to get up he kicked me and I went right back down. One more hit with that gun and I was seeing stars. I didn't even realize he was on top of me until his knife was a few inches into my abdomen. I couldn't take a breath before he stabbed me again."

Once again, Jack noticed him rubbing his thumb over his abdomen where the scars of Foyet's attack resided under his shirt. His grip on his dad's arm tightened. "Dad..."

"I'm okay," he reassured his son before continuing. "I've never felt pain like that. Breathing hurt. Not breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Not moving hurt. It was pain that wouldn't go away, and he kept adding to it. I knew I was going to die right there on that floor. He'd prolong it as long as he could, but I just knew I was his endgame. He enjoyed taunting me, said my scars would look just like his own. Even took off his shirt to show me. I tried to stay awake by taunting him back. I told him I would kill him. Tried to threaten him with the team, but I was so weak by that point I couldn't even get a sentence out. And he knew it. His stabs went slower, more methodical. He talked the whole time. He said something about our profile of him, but by then everything was so fuzzy. I was losing consciousness. I couldn't understand him anymore. It sounded like he was under water. After he stabbed me the fifth time I finally passed out. He stabbed me four more times after that."

Jack had to wipe a tear from his face. He had no idea how close he'd come to losing his dad back then. He still had a hold of his arm, reassuring himself that his dad was still with him. "How did you survive that?"

"Remember I told you that when we here hunting Foyet back in Boston that he'd attacked Morgan and taken his credentials?"

"Yeah."

"For some reason he wanted to keep me alive. He managed to get me into his car and drove me to St. Sebastian. He used Morgan's credentials to drop me off at the Emergency Room. Then he was gone again. I woke up a few hours later with the team standing around me."

"How'd they find you?"

"They knew something was wrong when we got called in on a case and nobody could reach me. They kept trying, but after a few hours Emily came to look for me. She came to my apartment and found the bullet hole in the wall and the blood on the floor. She called Garcia, who started calling hospitals to see if I'd been admitted. St. Sebastian told her that an agent named Derek Morgan had dropped off a 'John Doe'. Emily went to the hospital to make sure it was me and saw Foyet on the security footage. After the team solved the case they all came to the hospital. Reid had been shot in the knee on the case and was in surgery when I woke up."

"All this happened at the same time? This is crazy."

"Yeah. Now they were two agents down with Foyet on the loose. After they told me how I'd gotten to the hospital, we started looking at Foyet's signatures again. He always left something and took something from his victims. When Emily was searching my apartment she noticed a page was missing from my address book, but couldn't tell if he'd left anything behind. I was looking through the bag with my clothes and found the wallet with my credentials in it. There was a picture there that wasn't there before. My whole world stopped moving when I looked at that picture. I realized exactly why Foyet left me alive. I wasn't his endgame. Not in the way I thought anyway."

"He was coming after us." Jack's voice was so low, he sounded like the small innocent child he'd been back then. Aaron brushed his fingers through Jack's hair again and nodded.

"If I thought I couldn't breathe when Foyet was stabbing me, it was nothing compared to what I felt when I saw that picture. It was you and your mom, and he'd left bloody fingerprints on it. The page he'd taken from my address book was the one with your mom's information on it. He had your address and he was coming for you. And I was laying in a hospital bed barely able to sit up and completely helpless to protect you."

He had to stop talking for a few moments. He felt like he was back in that hospital room, chest caving in with panic. Reliving this was torture. Even though his son was sitting right next to him, still gripping his arm, he could still feel that unparalleled terror of not knowing what the team was going to find when they dispatched to their house.

"The team and a SWAT unit went to the house. They scared your poor mom to death when they busted in on her, especially when one of their first questions was _'Where's Jack?'._ When she realized I wasn't with them she knew something was very seriously wrong. You were at a friend's house so Derek went to get you. You were only three, and he told me later that you were so excited because he let you run the sirens on the way back to the house." They both chuckled at that. Though it was a sad chuckle. "When Derek left to get you, they told her what happened with Foyet."

"The only way we could guarantee your safety was to put you both into Protective Custody with the US Marshal Service. That meant we had to cut all contact with each other. I couldn't know where you were going. I couldn't see you. Couldn't talk to you. If we had any contact Foyet could track you through me. And we knew without a doubt that he'd be watching my every move. Sending you away was both the hardest and easiest decision I've ever had to make. Keeping you safe was my only priority. Sam Kassmeyer, the Marshal assigned to you and your mom, was a friend. I trusted him completely. Even so, putting your lives in someone else's hands was devastating to me."

His voice began to shake with emotion as a few tears fell from his eyes. "I had no idea if I would ever see you again because the only way you could come back was if we caught Foyet. They brought you and your mom to see me before they took you away. I promised your mom we would catch him and bring you back home, but I had no idea how we were going to do that. We both knew there was no way you could possibly understand what was really happening. We could barely wrap our heads around it ourselves. So we told you that you and mom were taking a vacation to explain why I couldn't see you. You looked up at me with these big sad eyes and asked if I was okay. My heart broke into a million pieces when you asked me that. Because I was nowhere near okay. And I wouldn't be until I got you and your mom back safe. I couldn't answer your question. All I could do was tell you how proud of you I was."

"Every single day," Jack whispered and sniffled. He looked up at his dad. "I remember that."

"I'm still that proud of you, Jack," Aaron said, wrapping his arm around Jack's shoulders. Jack leaned over and hugged him tightly, his tears now flowing freely at hearing his dad's heartache. Aaron held him for a moment before lifting Jack's chin and wiping the tears from his face. "Are you okay?"

Jack nodded and wiped his face. "There's so much I didn't know about. Hearing everything is just a little overwhelming."

"I know." He continued to rub his back. "Do you want to take a break?"

"No," Jack said as he wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. "I know it only gets worse but if we stop I'm not going to be able to go through with this."

"Are you sure?"

Jack nodded. "I'm sure."

Aaron took a deep, painful breath. "Okay."


	8. Chapter 8

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 8**

"Two months and three days," Aaron continued with a sigh. "The longest two months and three days of my entire life. I spent every waking moment searching for Foyet while still trying to do the job. And nearly every night I was having nightmares about something happening to you and not being able to get to you. On your fourth birthday Sam managed to get me a dashcam video of you playing on a swing set in a park. That was the only time I got to see you. You have no idea how many times I watched that video. It's what kept me going.

"I knew I was obsessing and it was probably starting to affect the job. I was doing my best to keep it together. But one night Section Chief Strauss came to me and told me that the Bureau felt my ability to lead the team had been compromised by Foyet. They didn't have confidence in my judgment anymore. They basically left me with two choices: step down voluntarily or be reassigned."

"That sucks, Dad." Jack shook his head. "You're already going through hell and they try to take your job away from you, too? That's not right."

"I felt the same, but looking back, I think they made the right decision. I was doing the best I could, but I was still completely wrapped up in finding Foyet. I know it was bleeding into other cases. I also knew if I stepped down voluntarily I could keep the team together. Reassignment would mean we'd all get split up. So I talked it over with Morgan and we came to an agreement. He would take the Unit Chief position until we caught Foyet. He did a great job, too. It was awkward at first. Very awkward. For everyone. But once we got comfortable everything went smoothly. And it gave me time to keep focusing on finding Foyet.

"We had our eyes everywhere. We were looking for his signatures to pop up in any new murders, but he wasn't killing. He was keeping a very low profile. We were also trying to track his medications. He was on quite the pharmaceutical cocktail due to his original injuries. But we weren't finding any pharmacies filling that specific drug regimen. The more we looked and came up empty, the antsier I got. There were some nights I wouldn't sleep at all. I was living in my office surviving off coffee and Foyet's case files. At that point I don't know why I was even bothering with the files. Every bit of information in them was burned into my eye sockets to the point I could have drawn you an exact replica. I guess it made me feel like I was doing something to find him instead of waiting for him to make his next move. But as usual with him, we were getting nowhere fast. And we still had cases to work.

"That November we caught a family annihilator case in Virginia."

"Family annihilator? That sounds ominous."

"It's exactly what it sounds like. In this case someone was killing military families while the husband was serving overseas."

"Oh, God," Jack rubbed his face.

"While we were investigating, Garcia found out that another family annihilator we'd arrested four years earlier, Karl Arnold, had received two letters in prison from a so-called "admirer". In the letters were news clippings of the two murders we were investigating with a note that said _"Look at what I have done"_. The letters made it look like we were hunting a copycat of Arnold's murders. So Emily and I went to see him while the others stuck to the case. We needed to get into his head, make him detail for us how and why he went after the families he killed. If we really were dealing with a copycat, the information could help us get ahead of him and hopefully stop him in his tracks. But through the course of the investigation we found out that the two cases weren't related at all. The killer we were chasing was a woman. The team was able to track her down in the home of her would-be next victims. When we told Arnold, he seemed surprisingly unfazed.

"He said things weren't over for me."

Jack shook his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It didn't make sense to me either," Aaron shrugged. "He brought up his admirer again. When I said we'd find him, he said he was sure his admirer had already found me. That's when it started sinking in. We were lured to Karl Arnold for another reason. So he could give us a message. I went back through everything; the letters, news articles, his journal. I was getting panicked. And he thoroughly enjoyed seeing me in such a state. _"It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."_ I'll never forget that," he physically shuddered, "or his sick laugh when he said it. I found what I was looking for in his journal. The news article from when I was attacked, Eye of Providence drawn across it."

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "Foyet, again. Why on Earth would he bring someone else into his sick games? What's the point?"

"To play with our heads. Throw us off our game. The night he attacked me, I remember him saying that my team only caught him in Boston because he wanted us to. This was his way of telling us he was done hiding. He was dropping us clues and saying 'come and get me'. He was ready to play his games again. And believe me, we were more than ready to put an end to this nightmare. I was so tired, I just wanted this to be over."

"What kind of clues did he leave?"

"It was the postmarks from the letters he'd sent to Arnold. We were able to track where they were applied and it gave us two points to add to a geographic profile. Fredricksburg, Virginia and Westminster, Maryland. That told us he was staying local, most likely to keep his eye on me. It wasn't much, but it was a starting point. After a week we finally got a little ray of hope.

"It was JJ who gave us what we needed to blow the case open. I told you we'd been tracking his medications and not having any luck. JJ was picking up some prescriptions for Henry, but the pharmacy was out of one of them. The Pharmacist told her she could substitute his prescription with an over the counter medication by adjusting the dosage down. When JJ asked, she told her about a number of prescriptions that can be substituted by over the counter meds if you get the dosage right. Based on that, Garcia and Kevin were able to narrow down only those drugs he couldn't substitute. We took the two cities where the postmarks came from, found the midpoint, and narrowed it down to just those people within a 25 mile radius who were on that medication. The list was still huge, over 100 patients. And of course there was no way he'd be using his real name anywhere. Reid started looking at possible anagrams using the letters of his name but couldn't find one. Then he tried it using "The Reaper" and he found one. Peter Rhea.

"Garcia put that name into her search and got a hit.

"We'd found him. In Arlington."


	9. Chapter 9

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 9**

Jack's back went rigid as he sat up straight. His breathing picked up and his hands got clammy. Everything his father had told him culminated in this moment. He was about to learn the truth of that horrible day fourteen years ago. There was an emotional war going on in the center of his chest that he wasn't sure how to handle. Fear and relief clashed violently as the one thing he wanted to know most in the world scared him the most. They were well past the point of no return. No turning back now. This was it.

"We found the apartment easily, but we didn't go in right away."

"Why not?" Jack was getting antsy. "You had him."

"We had to make sure he was there. If we went in and he wasn't there, we'd tip our hand and lose him all over again. We couldn't take that chance." He shook his head. "I'm glad Morgan was still in charge at that point. He still had a clear head. My head was all over the place. I was ready to pounce immediately, but I knew we couldn't. Still, it was killing me to sit there and wait.

"Morgan had the idea to send in someone posing as the building's super with a small camera. When he knocked and didn't get an answer, he slid the camera under the door. We could see everything in the main room, from the meal on the table to the mail on the floor. When we saw how he'd left the place, we knew we'd lost him again. We busted in but he'd already run."

"Damn," Jack hung his head, expelling the breath he was holding.

"There was a laptop on the table running delete programs. Garcia was able to hack in and find some of what he didn't want us to see. He'd had an alarm on his alias. When we ran the check on Peter Rhea, he was alerted immediately and knew we were onto him. It was the other things we found that sent me into panic mode. He had surveillance photos of Sam Kassmeyer."

"The Marshal assigned to our case?"

"Yes."

"Is that how he found us?" His voice shook at the possibility.

Aaron swallowed hard. "I tried to call Sam to warn him but didn't get an answer, so we took off for his house. Foyet had already been there. When we found Sam he was barely conscious. Foyet had tortured him trying to get information on you and your mom. He shot him three times. He beat him, pistol-whipped him. Some of his fingers had been cut off."

"Oh, God," Jack cringed.

"I tried talking to him before the ambulance got there. He kept saying "I'm sorry, I tried, I'm sorry" over and over again. He kept trying to talk but he was in such bad shape. When they got him in the ambulance I rode with him. He wouldn't let the medics sedate him so he could try to tell me what happened.

"Foyet knew there would be no names listed on Sam's service phone, just numbers. So he went through the list, calling one by one and asking for Haley until he found her. He knew exactly what to tell her to scare her and panic her into doing what he said. He posed as another Marshal and told her that both Sam and I had been killed and your safety was in jeopardy. He got her to dump her cell and buy a disposable so she couldn't be traced, then gave her a number to call so he could tell her where to go.

Aaron shook his head. "He set her up to come straight to him."

Jack dropped his face into his hands, then buried his hands in his hair. His mind was racing with thoughts of how scared she must have been. Everything she did was to try to protect him. And Foyet preyed on that fear and protectiveness like a monster. He preyed on all of them. His anger at Foyet was boiling, fueling the fire in his chest. He gave up trying to hold his tears in check. There was no point anymore.

"What happened to Sam?" he choked out.

Aaron shook his head as a single tear dropped to land in his lap. "He crashed in the ambulance. They tried everything they could, but he didn't make it. He died before we got to the hospital."

"He died protecting us," Jack sniffled.

Aaron nodded. "After everything Foyet did to him, he never gave him anything." Aaron wiped his eyes. "He said when he first took you and your mom into his custody that he would protect you like you were his own. That's exactly what he did. To his dying breath." He sniffled and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "I'll be forever grateful to him for that."

They both took a brief moment to compose themselves before Aaron continued.

"We knew Haley was going to Foyet, but we had no idea where. I had a hunch but I wasn't sure. I knew Foyet still had Sam's phone, so I called him. I had to try to talk him down, even though I knew it wouldn't work. I had to find a way to stall him. At the very least I had to find out where he was heading. I know he could hear how scared I was in my voice even though I was trying like hell to hide it. He took great pleasure in knowing he was causing so much panic. She showed up with you at their meet location while I was on the phone with him. When he told her to open the gate so he could drive in, I knew exactly where he was."

"Where?"

"Our house."


	10. Chapter 10

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 10**

"Morgan and the team had figured it out too, and were coming with a full tactical deployment. I knew they weren't far behind me, and I was driving like a bat out of Hell hoping I'd get there in time. When the phone rang again I knew it was Foyet calling to gloat. But when your mother's voice came across the line..."

Jack watched as Aaron hunched over, wringing his hands together and clenching his eyes shut. He could hear the sob as it tried to escape his father's chest, hear the shaky uneven breaths he fought for as he tried to keep his emotional control.

"When I heard her voice," he tried again as his tears began to flow, "I knew I wasn't going to make it. And when she heard mine, she knew she wasn't meeting with another US Marshal. She knew she'd walked into a trap."

Jack closed his eyes as his tears fell. He could hear his father's sniffles as he tried to regain his composure. Jack gave up on maintaining his own. He couldn't talk, he could barely breathe. Imagining what his mother must have felt - her fear and panic, trying to protect him, standing face to face with a sick, twisted monster like George Foyet - tied his stomach in knots and made him feel nauseous. He almost missed that his father had started talking again.

"The phone was on speaker so Foyet could hear us," he spoke low, his voice gravely and full of emotion. "God, he was enjoying himself. He especially enjoyed trying to turn her against me, blaming me and my ego for her situation. He told her about the deal he'd offered me. The Shaunessey deal. I'd never told her about that. He told her that all I had to do was stop looking for him and she wouldn't be in this situation, and it was my fault she was going to die."

"He's full of shit," Jack spat, his anger temporarily overriding his sorrow.

"I spent a lot of time believing he was right. That it was my fault. But I couldn't dwell on that. You were still in that room and I had to get you out. I had to get you hidden somehow, get you someplace safe.

"I don't know if you remember this, but before your mom and I divorced I had an office upstairs next to our bedroom. There was a linen chest next to my desk where we kept spare sheets and blankets. You used to hide in there with your little flashlight. You said you were working the case with me when you were in there. We made that our code just in case there was ever trouble and we worked on it several times after that. If I ever told you I needed you to work the case with me, you would go hide in there and wait for me to come get you."

"I kind of remember that," he wiped his eyes. "It's very vague, but it's there."

"With the phone on speaker I knew you could hear me. I told you I needed you to work the case with me, and I prayed and begged and pleaded with God that you would understand what I was trying to tell you. That you would remember."

"That's when mom hugged me," he cried. "It was the tightest hug she ever gave me. That's why I remembered it. She hugged me that tight because she knew she was going to die, didn't she? She told me it was because she loved me, but she was saying goodbye."

His cries turned into sobs as his father confirmed what he'd said.

"She begged me to hurry. And all I could do was apologize for bringing this man into our lives. Apologize for everything I and this job put her through. She was still so brave," Aaron's tears fell unchecked. "She made me promise her two things. That I would tell you how we met and how I used to make her laugh. And that I teach you and show you about love. Love was the most important thing to her. It was everything.

"The gun went off seconds later. Three shots, then silence. Just like that, she was gone."

He took a shuddery breath. "I didn't tell her I loved her." Aaron buried his face in his hands as the last of his composure crumbled. "I should have told her I loved her."

Jack curled in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Every memory he had of his mother, what few there were, crashed into him all at once. Every day since the day he was born her focus had been on him. To love him. To teach him. To protect him. And in the end, she'd died doing exactly that. He didn't know how much more he could take.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Jack uttered as he got up from the bench and went around to the other side of the tree, and dropped to his knees. He was wiping his mouth and his nose, sobbing uncontrollably, when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. Aaron sat on the ground beside him and pulled him tightly to his chest. Jack gripped his father's shirt and cried harder than he ever had before.

"I'm sorry, son," Aaron said as he held him close, sobbing just as hard. "I failed her. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."


	11. Chapter 11

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 11**

"God, she loved you so much, Jack." He held his son close while they both cried. "I've never seen anyone love anyone as much as she loved you."

They sat on the ground for several minutes before Jack was finally able to breathe again. He was so exhausted. He was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained from everything he'd learned. He'd expected to get emotional, but he never expected this. He knew going into this that his mother had been murdered, that it had been brutal. But he had no idea the depths of Foyet's depravity or the amount of evil that man brought upon them, right to their doorstep.

Jack finally sat up from his father's hold and leaned back against the tree. His eyes felt like sandpaper from all the tears. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and took a deep breath. He wiped his face and looked at his father.

Aaron's eyes were distant and filled with guilt as he gazed out over Haley's grave marker. Sometimes it felt like she had been gone for fourteen years, and sometimes, like today, it felt liked she'd just been ripped away. It made his heart scream in agony, made every muscle in his body ache, made his head spin, and made him feel as sick as his son had just been. The guilt he thought long buried took up its old residence in the center of his chest, making it hard to breathe.

"I blamed myself for her death for a long time," he said softly, feeling his son's eyes on him. "I still do. I thought I'd let the guilt go, but I guess you never let something like that go. Not completely." He shook his head. "I've done this job for so long, helped save so many lives. She never liked this job, mainly because it took me away from the two of you so often. But the one time she needed me to be the best at my job, I failed her. Everyone tried to tell me it wasn't my fault, but I still feel like I failed her in the worst possible way. I was too late. And it cost her her life."

"Just tell me one thing," Jack sniffled. "Tell me you got that son of a bitch."

Aaron looked at his son, eyes black as coal and so hard it took Jack aback. "I got that son of a bitch."

He took a few breaths to steady himself. "It felt like forever, but I finally got to the house. I went in with my gun drawn. It was so quiet. Too quiet. I knew he was still there somewhere. There was no way he'd miss seeing me at my weakest and most vulnerable. I found a flashlight in the kitchen drawer and started going room to room looking for him.

"There was blood on the floor in every room. Like he'd purposely left smudges for me to find. Even in your playroom. I followed the trail up the stairs. He'd carried her up to our room and laid her on the floor at the foot of our bed. Seeing here lying there, I nearly crumbled. But I caught a glimpse of something in the mirror that spiked my anger and refocused me. I could see the reflection of his boots sticking out from behind the curtains. My anger overpowered my grief and I emptied my clip into him. He dropped like a rock and took the curtains down with him. I had to untangle him from the curtains, but when I flipped him over I saw something I should have fully expected, but didn't."

"He had on a vest," Jack said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, he did."

"Ugh!" Jack hung his head. "Bastard."

"He knocked my gun out of my hand and went for his own. He fired a shot but he missed. I pulled the gun from my ankle holster and fired. I caught him in the back. He was still protected, but it was enough to knock him down. I chased him into the hallway and tackled him. That sent us both rolling down the stairs into the wall.

"We fought all over the living room. We broke the mirror on the wall, broke the coffee table. I tried to put his head through the wall. He broke a glass dish over my head. I took his legs out from under him with the broken table leg. I lunged at him, put him into the wall and finally got the upper hand. I pinned him to the floor and I hit him with everything I had. At one point he surrendered, but it didn't matter. There was no way I was letting him up. I was not taking him into custody just for him to escape again. I was not handing him over to police. He was not getting off that floor.

"I hit him over and over again. Every time I hit him I saw flashes of everything he'd done and it fueled my anger and I hit him harder. I saw every victim he killed in Boston. I saw Shaunessey and O'Mara and Coulson. I saw Sam. I saw everything he put your mother through. Everything he put me through. Every threat he made against you. He was never going to make another threat against you or anyone else ever again. Ever.

"I didn't stop swinging until someone physically pulled me off of him. It was Morgan. It took him a minute to get through to me. He kept saying, "he's dead, Hotch. He's dead. It's over. It's over." But it wasn't. Not for me. Not yet. There was one thing I still hadn't done. I shook out of his grip and ran up the stairs straight to my old office. I froze for a moment and my hands started shaking. I was almost afraid to open the lid of the linen chest. So much ran through my head in that split second. What if you weren't in there? What if you hadn't understood what I was trying to tell you? What if he'd found you? What if all I was going to find was your body? I remember playing this mantra over and over in my head. _'Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay.'_ I finally opened the lid, and there you were. You worked the case with me, just like we practiced. You remembered. You were perfect. There wasn't a scratch on you.

"That was the first time all day I was able to breathe."


	12. Chapter 12

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 12**

Jack noticed the changes as his father started to calm down. He watched him take a few deep breaths as his hands stopped shaking. Aaron finally looked at him. His eyes were sad but no longer hard. He put his hand to Jack's cheek and wiped away a few lingering tears with his thumb.

"When I opened the chest, you looked up at me and said _'I worked the case, Daddy, just like you said.' _ Those were the greatest words I'd ever heard. I can't begin to imagine how scared you must have been. You had to have wondered what was going on with it being so quiet and then so noisy, but you stayed hidden and waited for me. You were so brave. I was so, so proud of you.

"I got JJ to take you outside so I could stay with your mom until the coroner arrived. I didn't want you to see her like that. I wanted your memories of her to be beautiful and full of life, just like she was. I stayed with her and held her until they made me let her go. Then I went outside where you were with JJ and I picked you up and held you like I was never going to let you go ever again.

"An ambulance took us both to the hospital so we could get checked out. I made them examine us in the same room. I'd just gotten you back. I wasn't about to let strangers take you out of my sight, even if they were doctors. I was pretty banged up after our fight, a broken nose and some broken ribs, but you were perfectly fine. I couldn't believe it, but Foyet didn't lay a hand on you. Finally we were released and I got to take you home.

"Those first few nights were tough. You kept asking for your mom and I didn't know what to tell you other than I missed her too."

"I'm really glad I don't remember much of that," he hung his head.

"So am I. I was more than relieved when you stopped having nightmares. That meant the bad memories were fading. You had nightmares quite a bit in the few weeks following all that. And you slept with me nearly every night for a month. I was more than happy about that part. That meant I had you close. And when I had nightmares I could reach out and touch you and know you were there with me and you were okay."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I know this may sound a little weird, but I'm glad you killed him."

Aaron smiled sadly. "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to resurrect him so I could kill him again. Every time something happened in your life that she should have been there to see. For every moment with her he stole from you."

"I sometimes wish I could have killed him."

"No," Aaron said gently as he took his son's hands and put them in his own, looking them over. "Your hands are still clean. Mine are not. I'd protect your innocence forever if I could, though I know I can't."

Aaron put his arm around Jack and kissed the top of his head. Jack had to chuckle. His dad hadn't done that in years.

"They were right, you know."

"Who?" Aaron asked, puzzled.

"Everyone who told you it wasn't your fault. It wasn't, Dad."

Aaron heaved a heavy sigh of relief. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that. I spent years afraid that you would grow up to blame me for her not being here."

"Why?" He looked genuinely confused that his dad could think such a thing.

"Because it was my job to save her. I go do this job every day. I would leave you and your mom at home to go hunt the bad guys and save the lives of strangers. But when it came to saving my own family, I was too late. It used to eat at me whenever I would think about you growing up without her, and how I should have been able to save her. You had to grow up without your mom because I wasn't good enough at my job to save her life."

"That sick bastard took her away from me, Dad. Not you. I always knew you'd have saved her if you could. Especially in the way you used to talk about her. As I got a little older I knew you weren't just telling me stories about her for my sake, you were doing it for your own. I could always tell how much you loved her. I know even better now how hard you fought to save her."

"I would have traded places with her if I could have."

"I know. But as much as I've missed her, I'm glad I still had you here."

The two sat quietly as a soft breeze rustled the trees. His arm still wrapped around Jack's shoulders, Aaron watched as his son let all he'd learned today begin to sink in. Much in the way Aaron had many times this afternoon, Jack gazed out over his mother's grave with longing.

"Are you okay, Jack?" he asked softly.

"I think so," he sighed. "Ask me again tomorrow when I've had time to process all this. It's still too raw right now for me to wrap my head around."

"I know the feeling." Their eyes met and they both smiled sadly. "Are you ready to go home?"

Jack nodded. They stood and started to walk away when Jack stopped.

"Um... Dad? Do you mind if I have a moment alone?"

Aaron nodded. He hugged his son, then went to place another fingertip kiss on Haley's grave marker. As he turned to leave he felt Jack's hand on his arm. When he turned back, Jack wrapped his arms around him in one of the tightest hugs he'd ever given him, and buried his head in his chest. "I love you, Dad."

Aaron heard the sniffles. He returned the hug, holding him close. "I love you too, son," he whispered, running his fingers through Jack's hair and resting his chin on the top of his head. "I'll wait in the car," he said. "Take all the time you need."


	13. Chapter 13

**Truths of the Father**

**Chapter 13**

As Aaron walked away, Jack moved over to his mother's grave and sat on the ground in front of her grave marker. He gently ran his fingers across her name as he thought back to everything his father told him today. And then he thought back to the stories his father and aunt had told him over the years. Stories of love and laughter, of birthday parties and soccer in the back yard. He could picture her face lit up with joy, see her smile that would light up the darkest room.

How does someone with such a love for life get taken away from it so viciously? He would never understand the depths humanity could sink to.

"Thank you, Mom," he whispered. "Thank you for loving me. And protecting me." He sighed deeply. "I feel bad for asking Dad about all of this. I know how much it hurt him to talk about. But I'm glad I know now. I understand a lot more now, about both of you. Dad says I got your strength and your heart. Your resiliency. I hope I have even half of your strength and courage. Even though you must have been terrified, you were so strong and so brave. And I'm so proud and honored to be your son. I hope I've made you proud, Mom. I hope I've been the son you always wanted me to be."

He wiped the tears from his face with his thumb and, as his father did moments ago, he kissed his fingertips and laid his hand over her name. "I love you, Mom. And I miss you."

He stood for a brief moment to compose himself, then walked slowly away to the car.

Father and son rode home in silence, both deep in their own thoughts. Jack leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember a time when he was this exhausted and drained, both physically and emotionally. He opened his eyes and looked at his father, who looked every bit as tired as he felt. He couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for his dad to relive such a horrible time. And he knew that's exactly what his father had done. He hadn't just told him the story. He'd put himself back in that place, back in that hell. He'd dug up all that buried guilt and hurt and fear and anger and sadness so that Jack could fully understand what they'd all gone through. His admiration for his father, already into the stratosphere, grew even more.

They arrived home twenty minutes later. Aaron walked over to his desk and dropped his wallet and keys. He took the gold wedding band from his finger and kissed it before placing it back in its box inside the desk drawer. Jack stood leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets, watching.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

Aaron's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For putting you through all that again."

Aaron sighed and moved to stand beside his son. "In a lot of ways, I've never stopped going through it. It's something I think about almost every day. When you live through something like that it becomes a part of you. But it's not something I dwell on anymore. I can think about your mom or look at pictures of her and remember all of the wonderful years we had together. I was younger than you are now when we met. She became my best friend and the love of my life. I think about how lucky I was that I got to be the one to love her. She gave me the most wonderful gift in the world, Jack. She gave me you. I think about all the incredible years I've gotten to have with you. Of course, I wish she could have had those years too. I wish you could have had those years with her. But in the end she helped me save you. She protected you, took care of you, looked after you. Even in those last moments, all of her thoughts were on you. The promises I made to her were about you. Saving you and keeping my promises, honoring her memory, that's how we keep her alive. Those are the things that get me through the bad memories. Tragic and devastating as that time was, the good memories far outweigh the bad."

"I understand now. This has been a hard day, but I am glad you told me. It filled in a lot of gaps for me. I am sorry you had to relive it, though."

"You don't ever have to be sorry or feel bad for asking me about your mom, Jack. Not ever. I do want you to promise me something."

"Okay."

"I know you haven't processed all this yet. It's going to hit you. And it's going to hit you hard. Please come to me when it does. Don't try to deal with this by yourself. You are your father's son. You unfortunately inherited my stubborn streak. But I know what it feels like to try to handle things like this alone. I don't want you to go through that."

"I will, Dad. Promise."

"Good." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you hungry? Want some lunch?"

"Not really. I'm going to go lie down for a while."

"Okay."

As Jack went up the stairs to his room, Aaron watched him go, hoping his son would be able to come to terms with everything he'd heard today. He scrubbed his hands over his tired face and sighed. He started to pour himself a glass of scotch to calm himself. But then he looked toward the staircase where his son had just been and put the bottle away. He knew Jack would be upstairs replaying everything he'd learned. He needed to be available for him should he need him. _Even 18-year-olds need their dad's to tell them everything is going to be okay once in a while_, he thought. He opted instead for some hot tea. That usually helped to calm him, too. He took his mug upstairs to his own room to get lost in the memories of days gone by.


	14. Chapter 14

**Truths of the Father**

**Epilogue**

It was a quiet night in the Hotchner household. Neither felt like cooking or cleaning the kitchen after the day they'd had, and they'd both skipped lunch, so they opted for Chinese takeout for dinner. They ate, watched a little television, though neither was paying much attention to it. The emotional afternoon coupled with very little sleep the night before left Jack completely drained. He went upstairs, took a long hot shower, and went to bed early. Aaron took a few minutes to check his email, many of which were from his team telling him to stop checking his email and enjoy his vacation. He had to chuckle. They knew him too well. He shut down the computer, double checked all the locks and the alarm, and also opted for an early night.

* * *

Jack lay awake, his ceiling fan once again spinning in time with the thoughts and images of the day floating through his mind. He'd spent many years imagining what must have happened to his mom. His imagination had conjured up some terrifying scenarios, but nothing that compared to the truth. He knew there was no way he would be able to wrap his head around everything he'd heard tonight. Probably not for days or weeks, if ever. After seeing how deeply those events still affected his dad after so long, he knew he didn't have a prayer. He tried to sleep. It wasn't happening. It didn't happen for him earlier either. He couldn't quiet his mind. He ran through their conversation again. Committed all the details to memory. And though he knew it was completely illogical, he couldn't help but wonder if there was anything he could have done to change the outcome.

He looked at the clock. 2:37am. He groaned and rolled out of bed. He rubbed his tired eyes and thought maybe a cup of tea would help him sleep. He left his room quietly so as not to wake his dad. Until he noticed his dad's light was on.

* * *

Aaron tried to sleep. He dozed off a time or two but he kept waking up. He was worried about Jack and couldn't stop thinking about Haley. He wished he could talk to her, get her reassurance that telling Jack everything was the right thing to do. Get her reassurance that Jack would be okay knowing everything he knows now. He sighed heavily, turned on his bedside lamp and got out of bed.

The bottom drawer of his dresser was "her" drawer. It held the special things he couldn't bear to part with after her death. Things they both held dear. Their high school yearbooks from the year they first met. His old pirate hat with their copy of 'The Pirates of Penzance'. Their wedding album. The string of pearls she wore that day. The cards from their first anniversary. An envelope with Jack's sonogram pictures. The tiny blue outfit that Jack wore when they brought him home from the hospital.

Sitting beside the tiny blue outfit was the book he was looking for. He held it gently, a smile spreading across his face. He sat on the edge of his bed and opened it. Inside this book were some of the greatest memories of their lives. She'd put this book together herself. Her creativity and passions revealed themselves with every turn of the page. He ran his fingers gently over the picture on the front page. Her smile was as big as he'd ever seen it. So was his.

"Dad?"

He looked up to see his son standing in the doorway.

"Hey buddy. Couldn't sleep?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Me neither."

Jack walked in and sat next to his father. He smiled at the picture his dad was looking at. "What are you looking that?"

"Have you not seen this?"

"I don't think so."

Aaron shook his head. "I can't believe I've never shown this to you. I thought for sure I had." He closed the book and handed it to Jack. "It's your baby book. Instead of buying one, she made it herself. She took this book everywhere with her during your first year. She would add to it here and there. Jot down memories and funny stories. All your 'firsts' are in there. And there are some great pictures in there."

Jack opened the cover and saw the picture that had his dad smiling so big. They were in the hospital. His mom was in the bed wearing a smile as big as the sun. His dad was leaning over her, the awe and admiration he felt written all over his face. And in her arms she held her newborn son wrapped in a baby blue blanket, his tiny fist wrapped tightly around her finger.

"I've never seen this picture," he smiled. "It's hard to believe I was ever that small."

"Tell me about it. I remember the first time I held you. You were so tiny I was afraid I was going to break you. But your mom... she was an instant pro. She was amazing with you." Just like in the picture, the awe was evident on his face. "There are a lot of pictures in there you've probably never seen before."

He flipped the cover page. On page one were a few sonogram pictures. He squinted, trying to make out the images. "Soooo... all this black and grey swirly stuff... I'm in here somewhere?"

Aaron laughed. "Yes. Right here," he pointed to the speck in the first picture. "Here," he pointed to the larger peanut-looking speck in the second picture. "And here," he pointed to the shape that was starting to look much more like a baby.

"Wow," he stared in wonder.

He flipped the page. This one had lots of little blue pictures of toys and trucks surrounding another sonogram picture. 'It's a BOY!' was written largely at the top of the page. His grin widened at the obvious joy his mother had when she found out she was having a son. He flipped again and saw a picture of the three of them arriving home as a family for the first time. There were pictures of his first bath, of him laying on the floor on his belly playing with his dad. One he instantly fell in love with was of him sound asleep in his mother's arms while she slept in a recliner by the window. He lingered on that one for a while.

"That's one of my favorites too," Aaron whispered. Jack smiled at him, then kept going through the book. The picture of him smiling showing off his first tooth drew more chuckles. He was in a playpen with a stuffed soccer ball. Sitting in a high chair with food all over him. He noticed in the vast majority of pictures there was a green stuffed dragon somewhere close by. His favorite toy.

"That dragon went everywhere with you for a good three years, I think. Your aunt still has it."

"Really?" Jack asked, surprised.

"Mmm-hmm. None of us were about to part with that dragon. He was special. You got that on your first Christmas." There were pictures of that too.

He flipped through more pages. There was a picture of him smiling and clapping with a caption: "I said my first word today!" A picture of him on very unsteady feet. In a big floppy hat on the beach for the first time. All bundled up in the snow for the first time. And many pictures from his first birthday party.

"This is really great, Dad. She made this really special."

The last few pages were titled "About your Mom and Dad". There were various pictures of them throughout their relationship. High school prom, dates throughout the years, the night they were engaged. Their wedding day. The day they found out they were having a baby. One picture in particular stood out. Two high school kids on a stage in a play.

"Is that..." he cocked an eyebrow and shot a smirk at his dad, "the infamous pirate hat?"

"Do not knock the pirate hat," Aaron pointed at his boy. "That hat is the reason you exist."

Jack laughed hard and so did his dad.

"I love that story," Jack said.

"Me, too," he smiled.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

Jack grinned. "Tell me again."

Aaron nodded his head, still chuckling, and went to the drawer. "The story must be told properly," he said, removing the pirate hat from the bottom drawer and putting it on. Then he picked up 'Reflections 1987'. "Thank you, Haley," he whispered and smiled, and sat beside his son.

"Once upon a time, way back in the year 1987..."

**The End**

* * *

Thank you very much to all of you who reviewed/favorited/alerted this journey. Your feedback has been wonderful and insightful! I appreciate all the support!

Just in case that last line should sound familiar to anyone, it's a nod to a story I wrote back in 2009 called "Love of my Life", in which Aaron first tells four-year-old Jack the story of how he and his mom met.


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